


Different

by SmartassUndertheMountain



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: A little angst with a happy ending, Coffee Shop, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Tony Stark's Daughter!Reader, post-winter soldier bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 22:03:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6725296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmartassUndertheMountain/pseuds/SmartassUndertheMountain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're Tony Stark's daughter, and you want to keep it a secret so you can live a normal life, Tony agrees with you. (Un)fortunately, you catch the eye of a certain recent addition to the Avengers Family, and he catches yours. What happens when your father finds out?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Different

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably very unrealistic and out of character, but I couldn't get the idea out of my head. It also ended up being a lot longer than I thought it would.

         “Dad, can I ask you something?”

         “Of course, kid.” Your father set down the soldering tool and flipped up the visor protecting his eyes. He spun around on his stool and leaned back against his workbench. “What’s up?”

         “Um, well, you can say ‘no’ if you want-“

         “No.”

         “Dad!”

         “You said I could!”

         “You haven’t even heard what it is yet. And this is really important.”

         “Okay, alright.” He raised his hands in surrender and bowed his head slightly. “Pray continue. You have my full and serious attention.”

         You took a deep breath in through your nose and exhaled through your mouth, eyes closed, willing up the courage to speak. Your father leaned forward a bit, what had you so nervous?

         “Dad, you know I love you, right? And I’m proud that you’re my dad. And I know that you want me to inherit the family business someday and everything,” your eyes widened when you saw the look of worry flash over his features before the stoic ‘dad face’ returned. Better hurry through the rest, “and I still want to, but until closer to that time, I have something that I want to do, for me, but I don’t want it to hurt you, because I don’t want it to at all, but I know that it might because on the surface it could, but I think that maybe you would understand my reasoning, you just have to promise not to get mad or anything until I’ve explained why, but if you still don’t like it or my reasons, then you’re free to say that you don’t want me to.”

         “Sweetie? Is something wrong?”

         “As long as you don’t get mad or sad, then no.”

         “Okay, so what is it that you want to do?”

         “The name Stark tends to carry a lot of weight with it, and I love it, it’s just that a lot of people only hang out with me, or want to date me, because I’m your kid, and I want them to like me for me, before they find out that I’m yours.” You paused to gauge his reaction. Dad face. Deep breath, you can do this. “And, I was wondering if you would hate me if, until I knew someone liked me for me, I went by Mom’s last name?”

         His eyebrows raised and you braced yourself for something unpleasant, be it anger or hurt or just confusion. The tight feeling in your chest that had been nerves turned in fear that you had just stabbed a knife through your father’s heart. You tried to breath deeply, but somewhere between filling your lungs with air and expelling that air, your body forgot how to function properly.

         “Kid, stop looking so scared.”

         You exhaled in one great huff. “What?”

         “Come here.” He stood and opened his arms to you, a small smile playing across his face. When his arms were wrapped securely around you, your face tucked into his shoulder, he rested his cheek on your head. “I love you, and I know that my name isn’t exactly easy for you to carry around. I get it. Being my daughter isn’t exactly easy. Hey! I felt that!”

         “Felt what?” Your voice sounded very distant when it was muffled by his shoulder and he couldn’t hold back a chuckle at the resemblance.

         “That eye roll. Your mother did it, too.”

         “Sorry.”

         “Like I was saying, it isn’t easy being mine, so if you want to use your mother’s name, that’s fine.”

         “You aren’t mad at me?”

         He pulled back and held you at arms length so he could look into your eyes. “I’m not mad at you. I’m not hurt, or even surprised, really. I mean, I’m surprised it took you so long, but I figured eventually you’d want a little freedom from the pressure of being Iron Man’s daughter.”

         “Dad.” Oh boy, once he got started there was no stopping him.

         “The great responsibility of being heir to the Stark name, the Stark fortune, the Stark -“

         “Sass?”

         “That too.”

         You laughed together and he pulled you in for another hug.

         “Thanks, Dad.”

         “You’re welcome, kid.”

        

         “So, Bucky, tell me about yourself.”

         The man sitting across from you had been coming into the coffee shop you worked at every day for nearly two months. Regulars weren’t unusual, some people had been coming every day for years, but this guy wasn’t the usual sort of regular. He could have passed for a hipster with the longer hair, but that was it. He could have been former military, especially with the prosthetic, except VA prosthetics aren’t that high tech.

         His voice was quiet and rough when he’d said “Bucky” the first time you asked for his name. He was always quiet, but polite, never spoke more than he had to, reserved, yet a generous tipper. He always got a coffee and a croissant of some kind, sat down in the corner booth, and read for an hour or so, with only the occasional glance up to people watch. Then he’d get up, throw away his trash, and walk out. Very normal, very predictable, but he sat in the corner seat and you knew that it had the best spot for seeing the entire cafe at once, that’s why when your dad - Mr. Stark, when you were at work - always sat there. He liked to people watch, too.

         But today wasn’t normal. The corner seat was already occupied by a teenage couple, probably on their first date. You started making his sandwich while Tom poured the coffee. You always chatted at him, and he never responded with more than polite grin or head nod. You figured that he found it annoying, but you did it anyway.

         “So what book did you bring to read today?”

         “I ran off without it, actually. Got halfway here before I realized, and I didn’t want to turn back in the rain to get it.”

         “Shame,” you said, trying not to let your eyes bug out of your head that he was actually speaking back to you for more than a ‘Thank you, Y/N.’ “Reading while the rain patters against the window has always been a favourite of mine.”

         “It is nice.”

         “Well, there’s that stack of old newspapers and magazines by the trash bin if you’re desperate for something to read, but people watching is nice too.”

         You could have sworn you heard a soft chuckle, but no, you couldn’t have, it would have been too out of place. “Yes, it is.”

         His prosthetic hand brushed against yours as you handed him his ham, egg, and cheese croissant. There was a happiness in his eyes. He was smiling, his mouth just didn’t know it. Not that it mattered. His eyes had you. They were blue, but a blue that you’d only seen on postcards that promised perfectly blue tropical oceans, the kind that reality always failed to deliver, but damn, at least they existed in his eyes. Had you been able to look away you would have noticed the smile growing on his face, and the self-satisfied smirk when you jumped at your coworker’s hand on your shoulder, signalling that you could go on break.

         You scooted past Jeanne and ducked your face, hoping he wouldn’t notice that your face was hot with embarrassment. Relief flooded you when you entered the back room. You pulled off your apron and made yourself a cup of tea. Normally, you would sit in the back on your phone until break was over, away from people, but you decided that if today came to you different, you were going to make it more different.

         You nabbed a chocolate pastry as you scooted behind Jeanne and Tom and into the dining area. He was sitting by the window, side to the table so his back could be against the wall - maybe you were wrong and he was military - eyes following the people dashing about in the rain, trying to avoid getting soaked in the downpour.

         “Mind if I join you?”

         He glanced at you, trying to remain unfazed, but the unprecedented company was a nice surprise. He held out his hand in gesture for you to sit. You settled yourself and took a sip of your tea, wanting to enjoy a companionable silence, but it quickly proved too much. Tony Stark’s genes were coursing through you and you just had to ask.

         “So, Bucky, tell me about yourself.”

         He shrugged. “I don’t know that there’s much to tell that you’d find interesting. You, on the other hand, look like you’d have a good story or two to tell.”

         “I work in a coffee shop, I help my dad build stuff, and I spend most of my nights reading with my not-actually-a-lap-dog-but-he-thinks-he-is curled up in my lap. Story told. Whatever you’ve got has got to be better than that.” Close enough to the truth, you did help your dad build stuff, it was just high tech robots, and computer systems.

         “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

         “Try me.”

         “I like old stuff, and I spend most of my time with my best friend from my childhood. I’m either at my job, here, or back at home.”

         “What do you do?”

         “You could call it research.”

         “What kind?”

         “Investigative, I suppose? Looking at different areas and the people that are there.” Not a lie, he thought. The psychologist thought he wasn’t ready for field work, so they had him at a desk, researching the missions before the team went in. Only, the areas were Hydra bases, and the people were enemies. “What kind of stuff do you build with your dad?”

         Damn it. “Um, well, there’s a lot tinkering, and a lot of stuff actually breaking more than getting fixed. We built a little robot once and it would roll around wherever you wanted, which was cool because we would use it to deliver each other stuff from the kitchen.” Yeah, when you were twelve.

         “So you’re good with tech stuff?”

         “I have a knack for it.”

 

         There was a little more chit chat like that, questions matched with relatively vague answers. He lost his arm in a “train accident,” but you got the feeling he didn’t really want to talk about it, much like how you had a “happy childhood, even though my parents weren’t together, they got along. Spent most of my my time with my father,” and that was all you would say about your past. He was working research, and now that you had your BA, you were taking a few years off to save for grad school - you really wanted to prove to yourself that you could pay for grad school without your dad’s help, even though he wanted to help (and could afford to pay for it all without batting an eye, but that was beside the point and not worth mentioning at all). He spent a fair amount of time in the gym, it’s how he worked off stress from his job (well, stress from the last bits of painful memories that were resurfacing slowly, and nightmares, and general emotional issues, but close enough). You were trying to break the family mould, do more than just work for the family business (it didn’t matter that the family business was Stark Industries, so best not to talk about it).

         So you learned a lot and nothing at all about the handsome stranger, that was in fact former-military, but that was also a topic you took to be taboo. He seemed to like order and routine, but welcomed your intrusion into his usual routine. He was a great listener and seemed to prefer asking questions to answering them. It drove you crazy, because he kept answering questions with questions. “What’s your favourite book?” was answered with “How much time do you have?” a light chuckle, and redirection with “What genre do you prefer?” Quiet, shy, good listener, interested in you - or at least seemed to be - with a genuinely happy smile and gorgeous eyes, who also happened to enjoy dancing of some mysterious kind? (He wouldn’t admit to whether it was jazz, tap, or swing, but you were sure it had to be one of those).

         He learned a good deal about the cute barista, who apparently put a lot of pressure on herself to be different, but to also be herself, and tried to figure out how to express that through her writing - she journaled almost everyday, but details beyond that were grazed over. Didn’t most people like talking about themselves? About what they liked? It was obvious when he asked about a topic that she felt strongly about. Her eyes lit up, and she couldn’t contain her smile anymore. She would glance down at her cup, as if reminding herself not to go on and on about it, but he would have loved it if she would. Her eyelashes framed her eyes perfectly, and the way her eyes scrunched when she was thinking was adorable.

         You were about to have to return to your station behind the counter. As you stood to leave he reached out a hand to stop you, but held off just shy of actually touching your arm.

         “Would you care to join me tomorrow? If you don’t have something better to do with your break than talk to boring old me?”

         You bit your lip and smiled before nodding. “I can’t think of anything better to do on my break.”

         He smiled back and you were rewarded with shining eyes and a cheshire grin and a gentle, “I’ll look forward to seeing you tomorrow, then,” before letting you walk away and then himself leaving.

 

 

         “So, Bucky, I hear you’ve got a thing for coffee now?”

         “What?”

         “Oh come on, we all know that you disappear to that little coffee shop two blocks over every day. What for? Is it just the coffee?”

         “They have good croissants.”

         “That all they have that’s good?”

         “Rrrr-AH!” Bucky grunted as he tried to toss Steve to the mat, but the blonde was holding out. They backed away from each other to circle again.

         “Come on, Buck. Tell me there isn’t a girl you’ve got your eye on.”

         The brunette rushed his friend, tackled low around the waist and took him to the ground. Steve let out an “ouf” of air, but didn’t seem too bothered by the pin.

         “Buck.” Steve’s no-nonsense voice was too much to argue with. Even when Steve was a skinny little twig Bucky usually obeyed it.

         He sighed. “The barista. Her name is Y/N. She’s nice to me. Always chats with me, smiles.”

         “Maybe she’s just a nice person?”

         “I thought that, too. I mean, it’s no good getting a crush on someone when they’re supposed to be nice to you because of their job, right? Nice doesn’t mean flirting - I’m not an idiot. It seems I recall dating a lot more than you, back in the day.” He threw Steve a pointed look, and the super soldier held up his hands, backing off. “She notices things, and remembers. Like, she asks me what book I bring to read, or if I Iike the new book I’ve got, and if I’ve seen any interesting people walking around, because she knows I like to people watch. But yesterday, I don’t know. Yesterday was…”

         “Different?”

         “Yeah. I’ve been thinking that a lot.” He rubbed the back of his neck and scrunched his eyes closed. “It’s just, she took her break with me. She just came over and sat and talked with me, and asked me about _me_. She wanted to know. I - I don’t know how to tell her about me without scaring her, without lying to her.”

         “I don’t know, buddy.”

         “Come with me?”

         “What?”

         “I asked her to join me again tomorrow, and she said yes; please come with me? I can’t do this on my own.”

         “Sounds like you’ve already done pretty well.”

         “Steeeeeeve.”

         “Alright, alright,” Steve chuckled at his best friend’s pleading face and whiny tone, “will do.”

        

 

         “Hey, Y/N, how’s my favourite barista doing?” His knowing smirk played into his eyes as he leaned on the counter.

         “I’m doing well, Mr. Stark, how are you?” You smiled back. It was a little fun having this secret with your dad. He certainly enjoyed taking advantage of the ability to brag on his daughter without you shushing him, even if the only other person in the store was your coworker on break in the back room.

         “Good, good. Thought I might hang out here till you’re on break?”

         “Um, sure.”

         “There was some hesitation there. My favourite barista hasn’t gone and found herself a boy has she?”

         “I’m in my twenties, I certainly hope he isn’t a boy. My tastes and standards are better than that.”

         “That’s my girl. So, do I need to skeedadle? Wouldn’t want to intimidate anyone with my presence.”

         Before you could tell him that yes, you wanted more time to get to know Bucky before he found out, the man in question walked through the door. He smiled when he saw you, casually threw up a hand. Not exactly a wave, but it was a new addition to how he greeted you.

         “Hey there, Y/N.”

         “Bucky! Hi!”

         Tony turned around so fast you thought he would have whiplash.

         “Barnes? Cap? What are you doing here?”

         What was a ‘Cap’? You looked past Bucky and saw a tall blonde who was definitely Steve Rogers, hands in pockets, very casually glancing between you and Bucky. You could tell he was biting the inside of his lip to keep his face straight, but he had an eyebrow raised in either confusion or amusement. You weren’t sure which. That’s when it hit you. The metal arm from a _train accident_ , the reserved nature, military background, _and_ knowing your father. You had been crushing on James Buchanan Barnes. You’d written your senior thesis on the Howling Commandos, how could you have not known who he was? You swallowed thickly, and eventually locked eyes with Steve. He gave you a meaningful look before glancing toward Tony then yourself. You bit your lip and offered a small shrug.

         “I could ask you the same, but seeing as we’re in a coffee shop…” Bucky smiled.

         “I thought you didn’t like coffee.”

         “Eh, I like the ones with all the whipped cream, plus there’s good people watching.” He glanced at you. Damn it.

         “What’s that supposed to mean?” He turned back to look at you and you turned on your poker face. That would clue him in that there was something going on that involved you, but better that than you blushing and giggling like a high schooler. You were grateful that it was a slow day, and the shop was otherwise devoid of customers. “Tell me you aren’t talking about her.” He motioned to you with a jerk of his thumb in your direction and you narrowed your eyes at the back of his head.

         “‘Her’ has a name.” You mumbled, relieved that they had not heard you, well, except for Steve, who slipped past the other two to stand closer to the counter. The alpha male loomed over you, but remained casual. He didn’t even look upset, just a little put out.

         “You’re Y/N?” You both kept your eyes on the pair currently staring each other down, if it could be called that. More like confused evaluation.

         “Mmhmm. You’re Steve Rogers?”

         “Yes, ma’am.”

         “And he’s James Buchanan Barnes? That’s where the ‘Bucky’ comes from?”

         “Yeah.”

         “Dad’s gunna kill me.”

         “He’ll kill Bucky first.”

         You sighed, drawing the attention of the other two alpha males in the room. There was too much testosterone in the room, and you were going to have to be the one to deal with it. Yay.

         “Kid?” Tony looked at you.

         “Have you two gotten all your staring done so I can explain?”

         Your father nodded narrowed his eyes at you but didn’t say anything, arms crossed, legs shoulder width apart. Father stance.

         “Bucky, Tony Stark is my dad. Dad, this is the guy you were about to skeedadle for.”

         “You’ve got a crush on the WINTER SOLDIER?”

         “Tony Stark is your father?” Bucky’s voice was a soft, lost whisper, a sharp contrast to your father’s surprised yell.

         You glanced at your dad, an uncomfortable smile across your face. “Ummm, to be fair, I didn’t know he was James fuckin’ Barnes when I started flirting - not that that would have stopped me, probably. And yes,” you turned to Bucky, “but I can explain that. And we’re also kind of even because you didn’t tell me you were James Barnes.”

         Bucky shrugged. “Fair enough.”

         “No. Not fair enough. I demand to know why you two are making googley eyes at each other.” Tony just had to butt in again. Dad-moments.

         “I’m a cute barista, he’s a cute patron, really, there are plenty of rom-coms and romances about this.”

         “You hate those.”

         “Doesn’t mean I don’t notice a cute guy when I see one, and act on it! I’m attracted to men, it happens, Dad.”

         Tony looked stricken for a moment. He didn’t move as he processed what you had told him. “Yeah, but, kid, come on. Tell me you aren’t going to go through with this?”

         “Go through with what, Dad? We we were going to sit down and talk over coffee. It’s not like we were about to run off into the sunset together. Do you really think that I would do that?”

         “Well, you’re attracted to old men, so I don’t know what you’ll do.”

         “If you don’t count the years he was frozen, you’re older.”

         “Brith certificate.”

         “Piece of paper.”

         “Y/N.”

         “Dad.”

         You and your father stared each other down. He may have had longer to perfect his stare, but he taught you every trick he knew, and there was no way that you were backing down. You were an adult, not a child, and you were damn well going to make sure he realized that.

         Steve clapped his hands together and put an arm around Tony’s shoulder. “Alright, what do you say you and I go get coffee somewhere else? Tony? You coming?” Steve wasn’t surprised when Tony pushed his arm away, not even slightly.

         “I’m not leaving them alone.”

         “It’s been two months that he’s been coming here for coffee, and nothing bad has happened.” Steve, always the voice of logic.

         “This is different.”

         “How?” Bucky looked at Tony, completely free of malice. “How is it different?” Curiosity burned in his eyes, and you found yourself wondering the same thing.

         “Because as much as I like you, as much as I understand your situation, she’s my little girl, and I can’t help my instincts.”

         “Because I’m too dangerous?” He didn’t seem to take offence at the realisation. More like he was asking for confirmation.

         “Yes.”

         “I see.” Bucky deflated and you ran around the counter and grabbed a hold of his hand, the prosthetic one. He barely gripped back.

         “How can you call him dangerous? He’s been nothing but a gentleman to me.”

         “You misunderstand.”

         “Oh, I’d love to hear this.” Steve crossed his arm and spread his legs, Captain America stance.

         “He’s one of us now, right?” He waited for the two men to nod. “Avengers don’t exactly have a track record for having safe jobs. Clint kept his family secret from all of us for years - well almost all of us.” He let out a huff of air you thought you heard a mumble about “Aunt Nat,” but you would ask about that later. “Look, I like you, Bucky, but I can’t let my daughter get involved with an Avenger, no matter who it is.”

         “Let?” There was a very tight sound to your voice that made your father’s eyes grow wide and he looked at you, the words ‘shit, I fucked up,’ playing on a loop in his head. Your head was held high and your hands were on your hips, elbows out, making your physical appearance bigger, and your presence more intimidating. “I’m a grown woman, Dad. An adult. I can join the army, drink, vote, and the last time I checked, kick your butt - provided you aren’t in the suit.” Your voice was growing louder and you knew your coworkers had to been listening in. You checked yourself and brought your tone back to that of a reasonable and powerful woman. “I make my own way, earn my own living, and most importantly, I am a human being with free will. No one ‘lets’ me do anything. If I want to get involved with an Avenger then I’m going to.” You glanced at Bucky, and smiled shyly, your voice becoming a little softer the next time you spoke. “If he wants the same thing, that is.”

         “Your father’s right.”

         You were becoming fed up this protective nonsense. Your threw your hands in the air and let them fall limply to your sides, a scoff escaping before you could check yourself. “If that’s what going to hold you back, then fine; I’m not going to force you into anything, but you’re an idiot if that’s the case.”

         “Excuse me?”

         The poor man looked so confused. “Look, I like you. I would like to know you better, and up until five minutes ago, I thought you liked me, too. But if me being related to Tony changed that, if him telling you that it’s too dangerous, changed that, then you are idiot. Because in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not just Tony Stark’s daughter - I’m Iron Man’s daughter. Trust me, there is nothing that could happen to me because of you that couldn’t happen to me because of him. It’s up to you to decide, but for my part, I just hope you’re smarter than this.”

         You went back to your spot behind the counter and smiled at the three men on the other side. “Hello, how can I help you gentlemen today? We’re having a great promotion on scones this week.”

 

         The three men were in different states with you. You had a few days off, so you hadn’t seen Bucky to know if he’d been in the shop. You had refused to speak to your father for about twenty-fours before he came bursting only your door in full Iron Man get-up. He apologised and that was that. Having a father that was overwhelmingly protective was part of being Tony’s daughter. Steve had gotten your number and called to apologise for the whole thing, not that he had needed to, really. You assured him it wasn’t his fault, and asked about Bucky.

         “Any idea how he feels about all of this?”

         “He’s embarrassed, and - don’t tell him I told you this.”

         “My lips are sealed.”

         “He misses you. He said he wanted to apologise but you haven’t been working the last couple times he went in.”

         “Yeah, they’re training someone new and gave me a few days off. I was going to tell him over coffee… What do I do?”

         “Why are you asking me?”

         “You’re his best friend, and I can’t exactly talk to your average citizen about how to reconcile being Stark’s daughter and crushing on Bucky Barnes.”

         “Ah, right. Well, um, just talk to him?”

         You rolled your eyes and chuckled. “So helpful, I never would have thought of that.”

         “It’s the only decent advice I’ve got for you. Talk. To. Him.”

         “Right. Easier said than done.”

 

         You took the back entrance into the new and improved Avengers tower. You greeted JARVIS and asked the AI not to tell your father you were there yet. “I’ll surprise him after I’ve spoken with Bucky.”

         “Of course. Mr. Barnes is in his room at the moment. I’ll have the elevator take you up, Miss Stark. Shall I tell him you are on your way?”

         “Please.”

 

         “Mr. Barnes.”

         “Yes, JARVIS?”

         “Miss Stark has asked me to inform you that she is on her way up.”

         “Um, alright. Thanks.”

         Y/N was on her way? To say what? Why was she here? He looked around his room. Not exactly ready for company. He grabbed all his clean laundry - he was lazy when it came to folding - and shoved it onto the shelf in his closet. The “spring breeze” air spray filled the room, and he coughed as he breathed it in. The blinds were pulled open and the papers strewn across the desk put into a pile that might be called neat(-ish).

         There was a strong knock on his door. “Hey, Bucky. You don’t have to open up if you don’t -“ the door flung open and you were face-to-face to with a slightly out of breath Bucky, “- want to. Um, hi!”

         He offered you a polite smile and a very slight head nod. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

         “They were training a new guy at work so they gave me a couple days off. Jeanne is going back to school full time in a few weeks. They’re transferring her to a shop closer to her campus.”

         “Oh.” He nodded in understand. You offered him a shy smile, but couldn’t look him in the eyes for more than a few seconds, scared you might blush or lose you nerve. “You, uh, you wanna come in?”

         You nodded and he stepped back to let you inside. You hesitated before quickly moving past him, squeezing your arms to your sides to make yourself as small as possible, to completely avoid touching him.

         The heavy scent of air spray filled your nose and you fought back the headache it threatened to bring on. Strong smells killed you, which made you an idiot for working at a coffee shop, but you liked the atmosphere enough to take really strong medicine before your shift. The room was lit by lamps, so the room was illuminated in a soft glow rather than the harsh gleam of the over-head fluorescents. He gestured for you sit in his desk chair, waiting for you to take your seat before settling himself on the edge of his neatly made bed, always the gentleman. The forest green of the quilt wasn’t what you’d pictured he would have in his room, but it went well with the soft gray of his accent pillows. It made you wonder if he picked it out or if Tony had a hand in it - he’d always been able to make a room cozy and relaxing.

         “I wanted-“

         “I’m really-“

         You both paused and chuckled awkwardly.

         “You go.”

         “No, ladies first.”

         “Age before beauty?” You thought you had won with the small, but genuine smile that reached his eyes, making them crinkle just a little bit.

         “I insist.”

         You took a deep breath. “I came to apologise. Not for what I said - I firmly believe that - but for how I said it. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that, and especially not in front of Dad and Steve. It was out of line, and I’m sorry. Can you forgive me for that?”

         “You don’t have to apologise. I was being an idiot.”

         “That doesn’t mean you deserved to get yelled at. I should not have done that, and I regretted it the second I had calmed down enough to realize what I had done. I should have apologised sooner, but I was afraid you wouldn’t want to see me.”

         “Of course I wanted to see you. But you weren’t at the coffee shop and I was a little too scared to ask Tony - your Dad - for your address.”

         Try as you might, you couldn’t suppress the giggle that bubbled in your chest. His confused look only made you giggle more. “Big tough war vet and Avenger James Buchanan Barnes was scared to ask my dad for my address? That’s kind of adorable.”

         “It’s pathetic.”

         “Maybe a bit, but the endearing kind of pathetic.”

         “That makes no sense, you know.”

         “Yeah, well, I’ve discovered that there are few things in my life that are ever going to make sense, and that I should probably just not worry about that anymore.”

         “Fair enough.” He watched you carefully before he spoke next, waiting to see any negative reaction before he proceeded with the utmost caution. “If you would still like to talk over coffee, there’s a pretty fancy machine in the kitchen. Barton showed me how to use it. I could make you coffee instead of the other way ‘round for once.”

         “Well that depends, you any good?”

         “I’m not bad.”

         “Alright. You make the coffee; I’ll fix some snacks.”

         “You sure?”

         The furrow in his brow told you that he was not asking about the snacks. You threw him big smile and felt a warmth in your chest when he smiled back. “Absolutely. No one else knows where Dad hides the good chocolate.”

 

Several Months Later

 

         “Guys, Tony’s coming. Might want to make a little room.”

         “Every time we make room he sits between us.”

         “Can you blame him?”

         “Steve! I thought you were on our side?” Bucky gave Steve a feigned look of heart break, complete with a hand to the heart and a head tipped back in shock.

         “I am, but come on, man. You’ve seen how protective Tony is of his lab, he’s way more protective of Y/N.”

         “That doesn’t mean I’m going to sit on the opposite side of the couch when I’m already perfectly comfy.” You had a pillow resting against Bucky’s leg (despite how much you appreciate his muscled body, it wasn’t always the softest, and certainly not the squishiest thing to lean your head against), his arm resting warmly on your side. A soft and very worn blanket that you could remember using for pretty much your whole life was wrapped around your lower half. It had been a lazy day for you, sleeping late, then convincing your boyfriend, of about three months, to join you in marathoning the Pirates of the Caribbean movies. “Now hush, Elizabeth is about to kick ass.”

         “Language.” Steve and Bucky said in unison, laughing when you rolled your eyes and flipped them off, muttering about ‘old hypocrites.’

         “Now that’s not lady-like, missy. Raised you better than that.”

         “Ssshhh, Kiera Knightly is sassing Johnny Depp.”

         Tony smiled and went to sit down next to Steve on the couch. He glanced over at his daughter and her boyfriend. Bucky’s right hand was running through your hair, rubbing your scalp gently. You reached up to grab his left and absent-mindedly played with his fingers, while mouthing along with the actors. You really had seen these movies too many times.

         “Cute, aren’t they?”

         “I’m not supposed to approve, Cap.” He whispered back, despite the smile on his face. “But, as the ice-man’s team mate, I’m glad he’s happy.”

         “And as Y/N’s father?”

         There was a short pause as Tony looked at you carefully. You were glancing up at Bucky, smiling. He seemed completely lost to the movie until he felt your eyes on him. He turned to look at you, but his attention was still primarily on the screen.

         “You like it, don’t you?” A shit-eating grin was spread across your face. Yep, definitely related to Tony Stark.

         “It’s not as bad as I thought.”

         “Yeah. Play it cool. We’ll see how you do with the next three films.”

         “There are three more?”

         Tony heard Steve chuckle at the very obvious excitement in his friend’s voice, and look of triumph on your face as Bucky tried to play it off.

         Stark leaned closer to Steve. “As her father, I think that she’s found someone who cares for her deeply and likes her for who she is. I can’t ask for much more than that.”

         “But I’m sure you could think of a thing or two.”

         “Well you know, swearing loyalty and promises not to hurt her via blood oath - they did that in ancient Greece, horse’s blood to be exact.”

         “You’re thinking of the oath that Helen’s suitors made, swearing to come to the aid of whoever she ended up with, and that’s mythology.”

         “Close enough.”

         “Hey, be quiet over there. Do you want to hear Orlando Bloom’s impassioned speech or not? Take notes, Bucky. Orlando is the epitome of swoon-worthy.”

         “I thought I made you swoon?”

         “You’re the epitome of charm. There’s a difference.”

         “So does this mean I need to get one of those poufy-sleeved shirts that hang open, and hang off the side of a ship to declare my feelings for you?”

         “I mean, you don’t have to take it that literally, but I’m not saying that I would hate it if you did get one of those shirts.” You winked up at him, and he tickled your side for a brief moment with an order to behave, delivered with a laugh.

         “Quiet down. Barbosa’s talking. Give the man some respect.”

         “Sorry, Steve.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please kudos/comment if you liked it, let me know what you thought!


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